When I was a toddler my uncle Ahmad came to visit us from Iran. I only vaguely remember the incident, but I’ve heard the story so many times I almost feel like I can now replay it in my head. One sunny afternoon my uncle took me to the playground down the street, and we played and played and played some more until the sun started to set. The whole time we played I told my uncle over and over that I loved him. “Do you love me?” he would ask. “I love you, I love you,” I would say. And I did. I think I love him as much as my own father. When it was clear that dinnertime was approaching, and we needed to head home I delivered my barb. “I don’t love you anymore,” I said to my uncle. To this day he reminds me of this — that I only love him if he takes me to the playground. And then we laugh and laugh some more, and you can just hear the love in the air. It’s mushy, I know, but I can’t say enough how much I love and appreciate having had my uncles — both my uncle Ahmad and uncle Mahmoud –Â in my life, and how much I appreciate that they are a part of Azita’s life today.
And I hope one day when Azita is older she remembers them with the same depth and fondness as I do.
Azita and Daee Mahmoud and Daee Ahmad
For people I saw not very often, my uncles were a huge influence on my life. It is such a special bond. M loves her two uncles, but unfortunately did not really get to meet mine. (she was too young when the last one passed away)
this picture is so wonderful. you know what would have been so cool? if amoo joon abol was in it too. i mean, i totally understand he doesnt hold the same sort of significance in our lives as amoo joon ahmad or bobby, but still, it would work. one day we should get a picture of all of them, ameh moloud, and your mom, in one picture with azita. i think that would be cool. hmmmm…
Great story!